


Desublimation

by Fragged



Series: Basic Needs [2]
Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Aftermath, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:56:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3122690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fragged/pseuds/Fragged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it's the cherry from the planet, but he can't stop thinking about Rush's 	mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desublimation

**Author's Note:**

> [Sequel to [Cherry Condition](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2773961)]  
>  **Warning** : Still no real plot. Just awkward guys and filthy, schmoopy sex. I do love it when these idiots cute-bang.

It is strange to step into Rush's quarters in the middle of the night. 

“...I'll take the floor,” Young says awkwardly, taking in the rather small bed. He wonders why Rush didn't opt for a room with a larger bed. But then, he can't imagine Rush ever expected bringing him back here. Oh God, what is he even doing here? There is no way in hell this is a good idea. 

Rush looks at him with a curious expression, and then rolls his eyes. “Bit late for that, don't you think?” 

Right. Twenty minutes ago he had Rush's dick in his mouth, and now he's worried about the bed not being wide enough. Jesus. 

Rush brushes his teeth and with a bit of a reluctant look, offers him his toothbrush when he's done. Young accepts it automatically, and then finds himself with another dilemma. Christ, suddenly everything bears thinking about. One small, irrational part of him doesn't want to brush Rush out of his mouth, doesn't want to erase what happened, and that's what gets him to do it in the end. 

By the time he's done, Rush has stripped down to his T-shirt and is sitting in bed with his back against the wall. He's reading a book with the kind of brow-furrowing concentration he usually reserves for life-or-death situations or the type of math that makes Eli stop joking around. Obviously Rush isn't as unperturbed about this as he wants Young to believe, either. 

Young takes his time getting out of his boots, his socks, his jacket, his pants...and then he has no idea what to do. 

It feels too invasive, too intimate, to just slide under the covers into the bed next to Rush, but he does it anyway. Instead of leaning his back against the wall, he lies down with his head on the edge of the pillow. His shoulder rubs against Rush's thigh, and he's oddly grateful to whomever decided his BDUs came with standard long-sleeved undershirts, because skin contact would have been too much right now. Rush's heat seeps into the fabric of his shirt, and he folds his hands over his stomach so his fingers won't accidentally graze against Rush's leg. 

Maybe it's the cherry from the planet, but he can't stop thinking about Rush's mouth. It had been unexpectedly nice, being kissed by him. Not the hard, aggressive sort of bites he'd imagined, but a kind of precise, slow slide of lips and tongue against him, Rush easily finding the path of least resistance inside. 

If Rush argued the way he kissed, Young thinks, he would never have stood a chance against him aboard the ship.

Rush pulls him out of his thoughts by putting aside the book and scooting to lie down as well. They have to share the pillow. Right. He imagines the ends of Rush's hair tickling his shoulder. 

Rush snaps his fingers in the quiet of the room, and the lights fade out until there's only just enough light to make out vague shapes in the dark.

Young lets out a surprised chuckle. “You installed a clap switch?” 

He feels Rush shrug next to him. “Seemed easier than getting out of bed every time.” His voice sounds amused. 

“It does,” Young says. He kind of wants one too, now. 

Rush is quiet for a few beats. “Are you feeling alright?” 

“Yeah, why?” he asks. 

Oh. The effects from the cherry. Goddammit. Is Rush asking—is he asking if Young is going to attack him in his sleep? Or is he offering...? 

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry about it,” he answers too quickly, glad that the darkness conceals the way his face must be flushing right now. 

“Goodnight, then,” Rush says, and turns his back to Young. 

Shit. Was that a mistake?

The line of Rush's back looks enticing in the near pitch black. Young keeps his hands on his stomach. 

It takes him almost an hour to fall asleep. 

-

A few hours later, Young wakes up with a gasp. 

His stomach does a little flip when he realizes that the man he just dreamed about is lying next to him, radiating warmth into his left side. 

His dick is hard. 

God, he wants to reach over and kiss Rush awake. Lick him to hardness and have him make those little strangled noises again. Work his fingers inside him and slide into that tight heat, _inside_ Rush, until he begs for more, harder, deeper. 

His cock gives a harsh twitch, and he stills his fingertips at the edge of his boxers. He can't do this, not here, not with Rush sleeping right next to him. And he's not sure this is the effect from the cherry still, but if it is, touching himself isn't going to do much other than make him more desperate anyway. 

He hears Rush wake up next to him, notices the slight shift in breathing, and thanks his lucky stars he refrained from jerking off. That would've been a rude awakening for Rush, quite literally. 

He stays completely still when Rush turns on his side, facing him. 

He feels Rush's eyes on him, searching for something, but he steadfastly continues to stare at the dark ceiling above him. 

He almost lets out an embarrassing yelp when Rush's hand moves smoothly under the covers until it cups his erection. 

“...Rush?” he asks, and his voice sounds every bit as uncertain as he's feeling right now. 

Rush squeezes him gently, through the thin and worn fabric of his boxers, and oh God, that feels good. 

“Better safe than sorry, Colonel,” Rush says with a rasp in his voice. And Young would almost believe that it truly is pure pragmatism on his part, if Rush's hand hadn't still been resting on him, rigid and waiting. 

Young wants to ask, for permission or reassurance, he's not sure, but sometimes the best way they communicate is through body language, so he rolls onto his side until he's right up against Rush, and presses their lips together. 

This is more than convenience and practicality, Rush must know that too. He won't deny he wants it all the same. Rush's fingers on his dick tense momentarily, but he allows Young to slip his tongue inside his mouth with nothing more than a surprised little hum. It's slick and warm and soft, and God yes, he could do this all night and die a happy man. 

Fuck, he loves kissing Rush. Who would've thought? 

Suddenly Rush pulls Young's leg over him and rolls them both over, so Young is on top of him. He only just has the wherewithal to brace his elbows next to Rush's head, and then Rush drags his face closer and kisses him in earnest, his tongue pushing deeper into his mouth, wrestling with Young for dominance as he lets his hands roam over his cheeks, into his hair.

Rush's lips are hot against his, and Young is not used to being manhandled like this. It's unexpectedly thrilling. 

Rush's fingers tighten in his hair almost painfully when he pushes his hips forward and their dicks brush against each other, separated only by two layers of threadbare underwear. And all at once Young realizes they're still entirely too clothed. 

He sits up, takes off his shirt, and helps Rush as he struggles out of his own. When he looks down Rush seems kind of lost, tracing his fingers slowly across Young's chest and stomach. Young bends back down and impulsively presses a soft kiss into Rush's lips, before moving over to his neck for a sucking bite. 

Rush's fingers tangle in his hair again, and when he moves to lap at one of his nipples, Rush lets out a choked moan that makes desire ricochet through Young's entire body. 

“Christ, I really want you,” he murmurs against Rush's chest, and it's the closest he can come to letting Rush know that this is about more than just some aphrodisiac piece of fruit he's eaten on a planet. He really wants this, wants Rush, more than he can admit out loud. 

Rush lets out a shaky breath, and says, “You can fuck me, if you want,” and Young has the distinct sensation like he's looking down from a dizzying height. Like he's in a F302 again, descending faster than his conscious mind can comprehend.

“Yeah,” he groans against Rush's skin. “God, yeah.” Because he really does want that. Jesus, is Rush really going to let him—he scrapes his teeth against Rush's nipple and soothes the sting with his tongue. 

“Do you have any...?” and before he can find a good way to finish that question Rush is bending away, to the side, scrabbling for something underneath the bed. When he presses the small tube of silicone gel into his hand Young has half a mind to ask what he's been using it for, but Rush is dragging him back down again, biting at his lips with a kind of abandon that makes shivers run down his spine. 

God, he's really going to do this. He's going to fuck Rush, when before today he'd never even kissed a man, and he feels like he could come right now just from thinking about it. 

“Rush, Rush,” he pants, when Rush's grip on his hair finally slackens a bit. “I need the pillow.” 

Rush lets him take the pillow from under his head, and looks on with heavy-lidded eyes as Young moves down to place it under Rush's lower back. His breathing is quick, and his lips shine wetly in the dark. He lets out a startled sound when Young strips his underwear off smoothly, but he doesn't say anything, just watches him from where he's holding himself up on his elbows. 

Young takes in the curve of Rush's cock, the way the head glistens at him, and the inviting angle of Rush's hips, and suddenly he isn't sure where to begin. He wants it all, wants to lick and bite at every part of Rush, and it's dizzying, all this possibility in front of him. 

“Colonel,” Rush husks, and it's a question and a plea rolled into one, and it's exactly what he needs to start moving again. He twists the cap off the tube of gel, and spreads some over his fingers. With his other hand he gently strokes Rush's cock, tugging the foreskin up over its head and back down again. He basks in the way Rush bites off a low groan. 

Slowly, he works two slick fingers inside Rush, and he feels a deep stab of victorious pride when he finds his prostate and Rush lets his head fall back with a strangled sound. 

He can't help but lean forward and lick quickly at the base of Rush's cock, before taking one of his testicles into his mouth. Rush curses, and Young uses the opportunity to push a third finger into him. 

“ _Fuck_! Slow down,” Rush cries out, and he sounds like he's completely falling apart, breath shaky and voice rough. Young nearly loses it, just hearing him like that. 

He takes his mouth off Rush's balls, and keeps the fingers inside him motionless. 

“You okay?” God, his own voice doesn't sound much better. 

“Yeah, just—go slow,” Rush says. 

“Have you ever?” he asks belatedly, and he can't believe he's only thinking to ask this now, now that he already has three fingers inside Rush, stretching him wide open. Rush tosses his head to the side and lets out a ragged moan, and Jesus _fuck_ , Young is pretty sure that means no, and suddenly he's so very glad that Emily had liked this. That at least he knows what he's doing.

“God, Rush, I'm going to—” and he's not even sure how he wants to finish that sentence, but he's going to take care of Rush, he's going to make him love every second of it, he's going to goddamn treasure this for the rest of his life, because Rush is giving him this, and that means something. He's sure of it. 

He bends lower to take Rush's cock into his mouth, and sucks him gently and carefully as he unhurriedly continues prepping him with his fingers until he's absolutely certain Rush can take him. 

When he pulls out his fingers, Rush tugs at his hair until he's at eye level again, and drags him in for another kiss. If the desperate noise he makes into Young's mouth is anything to go by, Rush is more than ready for him. 

Young shoves his boxers halfway down his thighs, slicks himself up with more of the silicone gel, and presses up against Rush's entrance. Rush takes Young's bottom lip between his teeth and goes completely still. Recognizing it for the warning it is, Young takes his time pushing forward, slowly, steadily. Every time Rush's teeth tighten on him, he stops, waits, until the grip on his lip loosens again. 

They're breathing in each others' breath, and it's heady, disorienting even. It's like nothing exists but the two of them here, now, connected in the most physical way he could imagine. The intimacy of the moment only becomes clearer when he's finally all the way in and Rush lets out a raw sound against his mouth and releases his lower lip to let his head fall back again. 

“Jesus, you're taking me all in,” he says brokenly against Rush's ear. The tight heat around his cock makes his skin prickle with desire, and the knowledge that it is Rush accepting him inside fills him with an agitated sort of wonderment. He doesn't want it to end with this, doesn't want to never get to have this again. 

But Rush chooses that moment to wrap his legs around Young's hips, pulling him in even deeper, and he can't help the way he lurches forward, into Rush. They both gasp, and then Rush is digging his fingers into his shoulders and angling his hips up, and they start a slow rhythm that builds in speed as the addictive friction becomes more difficult to resist. 

Rush rolls his hips into him, urges him on to go deeper, faster, and Young moves down to suck another kiss into the skin of his neck. Rush rewards him with a sharp inhale of breath that turns into a low whine before he can stop himself. 

“Do you want me to touch you?” Young asks, as he continues driving into Rush with fluid, deep strokes. 

Rush groans loudly and tightens his legs around him. “Fuck, yeah, yes. _Please_ ,” he hisses, and the need in his voice is almost enough to push Young over the edge. 

His hand finds Rush's cock, and he can't hold back a moan when he realizes how wet the tip is, how turned on Rush must be right now. “Jesus, Rush.” He curls his fingers firmly around his length, and strokes him in counterpoint to his thrusts. 

“Fuck, oh, _fuck_ ,” Rush babbles as his hips jerk forward and his nails dig deeper into Young's shoulder. It's amazing to see Rush completely giving himself over like this, to read the exhilarated passion in every line of his body. Young feels his own orgasm building, knows it won't be long until the pleasure inside him spills over, and he can't stop the words in his mind from tumbling out of his mouth. 

“Goddammit, you're fucking gorgeous,” he growls, and it takes him by surprise, the way Rush cries out, jerks against him, and stripes come all over his own chest. Christ, that's it, it's too much, the undulating heat on his dick, the sticky wetness on his fingers, the look of shocked pleasure on Rush's face—and he lets go. His orgasm crashes over him, wracks through him, and the release is overwhelming as he feels his cock spend itself inside Rush. Fuck, he knows that's not courteous, knows he should pull out, but he keeps driving into him until he's completely finished anyway. 

“Jesus,” Rush says shakily, when Young finally pulls out. Then he grimaces, no doubt at the alien sensation of warm semen inside him. Young's balls give an exhausted twitch at the thought of his come dripping out of Rush, his hole red and open, and _damn it_ , he can't think that way, not now that they're done. 

“Are you alright?” Young asks. God, he just took Rush's first time, sort of. 

“Hmm,” Rush hums, and closes his eyes tiredly. 

Young knows they should clean up, knows he shouldn't settle down against Rush, probably shouldn't throw his arm over his stomach and press a kiss into his shoulder, but his entire body feels like rubber and all he wants to do is sleep. 

The last thing he feels before falling into dreamless slumber is Rush's fingers winding lightly around his own.

-

He's never woken up with someone next to him on Destiny before. Not really. Not physically. 

Aside from the unpleasant awareness of dried semen on his stomach, on the backs of his legs, basically _everywhere_ , it's rather nice. 

Of course, the fact that it's Colonel Young whose arm is wrapped around him makes things a bit uncomfortable. Rush feels his face heat up when he thinks of what he did last night. Young ate something that basically forced him to have sex; but what was his excuse? 

He feels eyes burning into the side of his face, and turns his head to meet them. 

“Uh. Hey,” Young says. 

“Morning,” he replies awkwardly. 

There is a fairly humiliating moment in which Young apologizes as he pries his arm off Rush's stomach, which is embarrassingly stuck in place thanks to the dried come there. 

After that, they limit the amount of eye contact they make. 

“I need a shower,” Rush says, as he shrugs on his white undershirt and his jeans. It's not going to make them any fresher, but the feeling of being truly clean is one of the many luxuries he's gladly traded for Destiny and her mission years ago. 

“Yeah, I think I could use one, too.” Young is already in his BDUs again, jacket and all. He probably doesn't know where the showers are on this side of the ship. 

Rush throws him one of his two towels; they're both a little worse for wear, but so are most things on the ship. He motions at Young to follow him, and walks them to the shower stalls. 

They don't say much while they clean off. Rush experiences the intense awareness that Young probably knows that he's trying to rinse his come off the backs of his thighs, and out of...well. It's awkward, and it doesn't exactly facilitate easy conversation. 

When they're done, when they have their clothes back on, Rush avoids Young's eyes. 

“You should probably be on your way to the mess hall, Colonel.” 

Young gives him a look that Rush can't interpret, in large part because he's steadfastly refusing to make eye contact. 

“Yeah, alright. I'll...” 

Rush isn't sure what Young was about to say before he trailed off, because the man suddenly nods resolutely, before stepping into the door opening. 

“Uh. Thanks. For last night, I mean,” he says. 

It's probably one of the tritest things Rush has ever heard. He waves a hand and continues to study the wall, until he hears Young's footsteps recede. 

He makes sure to avoid Young for the rest of the day. 

-

“Brody,” Young says, as he steps into the control interface room later that day. “Volker has some questions about the power rerouting in the eastern corridors. He's on the second level.”

“Right,” Brody answers, as he absentmindedly flicks his radio back on and presses the button to speak. “I'll be right there, Dale.” 

After Brody makes his way out of the room, he and Young are alone. 

“Colonel Young,” Rush greets him warily. He's not sure how to interpret the slight frown on Young's face. 

“Hey.” 

Young sends him an uncomfortable look, but keeps eye contact. “If you like we could... Do you want to take another look at that weapon tonight?” 

Rush had thought last night would be all they'd ever get, one isolated moment while Young physically needed release to keep from falling apart, and for that reason it had been easy to abandon any restraint. He'd touched Young, kissed him...he'd asked Young to _fuck_ him, even though he had never consciously considered that before. 

And every chance taken had only led him to more discoveries of compatibility. He'd liked it, _loved_ it, and the thought that he could have more than just the one night leaves his heart fluttering anxiously in his chest. 

Because that is what this is. Young is offering him, asking him for more. 

He can't believe letting Young fuck him has left him fluent in Idiot. 

A small smile finds its way onto his face. 

“I'd like that.” 

He wonders if he can get Young to beg again.


End file.
